


What Was, What Is

by wolfofwinterfell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deathly Hallows, Headcanon, Memories, Other, Severus Snape is Draco Malfoy's Godparent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfofwinterfell/pseuds/wolfofwinterfell
Summary: Late night reflections on past and present bring out emotions as different as night and day though they fit together perfectly.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	What Was, What Is

It's early December, the castle is cold and dark, and he has entirely too much time to think. He is alive and he is free for the evening, and he is feeling entirely too many emotions. Some nights he feels as dead inside as someone who has suffered at the hands of the dementors and tonight he almost wishes for that. The pain is a reminder that he is still alive, that his heart still beats, and he's sworn to be glad for that. Tomorrow may mean his death; if not then, then maybe the next day, or the next. But he cannot look that far ahead.

He has kept busy for most of the day; he teaches his classes and in between them he grades papers and meets with the students scheduling private appointments, he has lunch in the Great Hall, he restocks the potions ingredients running low in his stores. But now night has fallen and his morale with it, and as he sits in his chair before the fire with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand, he thinks about the past.

It's not Lily this time. She makes plenty of appearances but tonight is for Draco, for the young boy he was and the man he might have become. He wants to laugh and to cry in turns depending on the memory and he's sure it's the alcohol but he can't get through this trip down memory lane without it.

He thinks of the early days after the Dark Lord's fall, when he spent most of his days keeping his hands moving so his mind couldn't wander. Sundays were spent at Malfoy Manor strolling through their gardens, playing games after lunch, having tea in the study and staying for dinner, putting Draco to bed and playing the piano until it was hard to stay upright on the bench. He looked forward to that day the most even though he popped in frequently throughout the week and he can remember the Sunday Draco rode his broom for the first time quite clearly.

It had been raining most of the week and the pattern continued into the weekend. Draco, at five years old, did not quite understand his parents' reluctance to let him out to play. What was wrong with getting a little wet when they had plenty of warm clothes to change into afterward? So he'd attached himself to Severus immediately, tugging on his hand and the leg of his trousers, begging to go out.

"I just _have_ to get out of here!" he'd said, his grey eyes pleading and his lips quivering. " _Please?"_

And Severus had smiled and looked over at an amused Narcissa, who just shrugged, her eyes dancing. "All right then," he'd said. "Let's have an adventure."

They ran outside together, Draco screeching as the rain hit his face, and for a moment Severus regretted saying yes; his clothes were already starting to stick to him and he could feel his hair plastering to his face. But his godson's peals of laughter made him forget about being uncomfortable and he chased him through puddle after puddle until they were both in dire need of a shower.

Lightning forked across the sky and Severus steered Draco toward a shed nearby. The boy had grumbled until thunder shook the ground and with a soft yelp he ducked through the door ahead of Severus.

It was dark in the shed and Severus drew his wand and cast lumos. The light from the tip of his wand gave off plenty of light for them to see and as he looked over at Draco he caught an excited grin. "What's got you all giddy now?"

"Brooms!" Draco pointed toward them, all displayed along the wall.

"I'd forgotten your father had this many…" He followed behind the young boy who had inched closer and closer to them. "I rarely see him use them now."

"Can we fly, Uncle Sev?" Draco looked up at him, his eyes pleading and his expression earnest.

"Now? No. It's dreadful outside." But he saw a shorter broom at the end of the wall and with a quiet sigh he took it down. "Fine. But only in here."

Draco was used to his toy brooms, which hardly rose off the ground, but they had nothing on this one and in no time he was rising over Severus's head and taking laps around the shed. He laughed with delight, his expression one of pure joy, and Severus felt himself smile too as he folded his legs and sat on the ground to watch. He wanted a hot cuppa and dry clothes and even though he could have the latter instantly, he was willing to wait. He was content to sit still and watch. Childhood was fleeting and sure to be more so in Lucius's household.

Later, at dinner, Draco told his parents what he had done that afternoon. They'd gushed over him, oohed and ahhed, and Severus smiled into his wine. So it _had_ been the boy's first time flying properly...and he was happy to have been there, the sole witness.

Delighted then, despondent now.

He takes another drink now and grimaces. It's hard to reconcile the young boy with the young man. What would he have been like without his father's influence? Would he still be on the same path? Lucius was hardly the only Death Eater his son knew, after all...but would he have known any of them otherwise? Was fate so cruel that she would find a way to put him on this path, no matter what?

Perhaps.

The young boy who had smiled often and laughed frequently had disappeared by the time he came to Hogwarts. Severus catches glimpses of him in private, away from the other students or his father, but those are few and far between now. He sees someone very capable of compartmentalizing his life and his emotions, someone who has shut down pity and compassion. He suppresses all the good in himself. And now, after years of talking the talk, the Dark Lord has asked him to truly walk it for the first time. It's terrifying and Severus knows it, and even though Draco doesn't want to accept the help he's being offered, he will find a way.

Killing Dumbledore is no small task and even though his entire being aches at the idea of losing another friend, of that loss being by his own hand, it is infinitely better than if it were Draco.

He finishes his whiskey and gets wearily to his feet.


End file.
